


No More Regrets

by mylatestobsession



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Situation, Pre-Slash, Season 8, Slight spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:39:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylatestobsession/pseuds/mylatestobsession
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel's time in Purgatory changed them, but it was their return that changed their friendship forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He was doing it again.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oystergrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Oystergrrl).



> Notes: I set each chapter into three parts, one for Sam, Dean, and then another for Castiel. So it's POV for each of them. I also made it slightly AU.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing connected to Supernatural, Castiel, Dean or Sam Winchester.
> 
> Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy your fiction!

He was doing it again.

  
Dean was staring across the room, eyes transfixed, a heart-wrenching expression on his features.

  
Sam had become used to these moments, though he was sad to reflect, there was usually someone on the receiving end of these prolonged glances.

  
 _A specific someone_.

  
That someone had been Castiel. But Cas was gone, stuck in Purgatory.  _Literally._

  
That fact did not seem to stop Dean from gazing at the empty seat at the table when they ate their meals. That didn't hamper Dean's longing gazes at the corner of the room Castiel would have appeared in.

  
It was like, life had continued in that one way, even without the angel occupying the space in it.

  
There had been other changes in his brother's mannerism since his mysterious return. The fact that he acted like a solider that had been lost in a war-torn jungle for so long, they had forgotten how to function in society.

Most nights, Dean spent guarding whatever place they were crashing in, be it a hotel room or the interior of the Impala. His eyes alert and at least two forms of weaponry close at hand.

The few nights Dean allowed himself any sense of comfort, he did so by silently stripping one of the beds. Always the one closest to the exit.

From his own bed, Sam would silently watch as Dean mechanically pulled the blankets and sheets off the bed and laid them out on the floor. Sometimes he didn't even take a pillow.

Not that he slept much. Sam wondered if Dean had slept at all in Purgatory and the lingering effect was that his brother continued to stay awake. Maybe he would never sleep again? Or maybe his brother was just restless? Sleepless because of lingering uncertainty and a fear that he would never admit. Not that Sam could, or  _would_ , hold that against him.

There was such a painful amount of tension in Dean's body when he did laid down, gripping the handle of a pistol which was resting on his chest, that Sam swore his heart hurt from it. This was only worse because he knew it had nothing to do with the worn down carpet and unforgiving cement floors Dean was attempting to sleep on.

Or even the monsters that Dean had encountered every day, hour after hour, for a year while stuck in Purgatory.

It was because Cas was gone and they had no idea how they were going to get him back.

  
*

The air was getting cooler.

He closed his eyes and savored the crisp scent of fall and the sharp sting of the wind as it cut across his cheeks. 

It was too hot in the hotel room. Too hot and too cramped. It made Dean feel like he was slowly being smothered to death, suffocating in the stale air and heavy odor of commercial cleansers.

A strong gust of wind slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. It made his cheeks burn deep inside the muscles, since the surface was numb and flushed.

Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, Dean cast a brief glance over his shoulder to the hotel. He wasn't ready to go back there.... not yet. He needed a few more minutes out in the open before he could forget enough to join Sam.

Part of him felt pathetic and foolish for acting like this.

For missing the crunching sound of branches under his boots and the cool dampness of the never-ending woods. The lack of needs like food and sleep, that had always hampered him. He missed the freedom, the clarity of Purgatory.

Most of all, he missed Castiel. Sick over the fact that he had gotten his angel back, just to lose him all over again.

Dean wasn't sure if it had been the environment in Purgatory or not, but it all suddenly made so much sense. When he saw Cas crouched down by the water's edge, he knew the answer to every lingering doubt he had felt for the last four years of his life.

He understood why Castiel had made him laugh, when even Sammy couldn't.

He knew why he had trusted the angel when he didn't believe in himself.

It registered fully why despite how much it had hurt to see Cas side with Crowley, he not only could forgive him, but that he desperately wanted too.

But it wasn't his feelings for Castiel that made Dean linger out in the biting cold of late fall in the north. It was the feeling he would never be able to tell the angel how much he had always meant to him.

The sinking depression of all the wasted time that had spanned between them since their first meeting in Pontiac. Although he had not felt like this then. He had no idea how much Castiel would come to mean to him, to all of them.

Dean's stomach twisted because he felt like every pathetic character from a sappy RomCom that had crossed the silver screen since the genre had been invited. Every love song that played on the radio made him want to die a little more, because it made him think about Cas.

He wasn't Jennifer Aniston who would get her man in the end.

He wasn't Ashton Kutcher and Cas sure as hell wasn't hot little Natalie Portman. They weren't going to have some friends with benefits agreement that suddenly turned into a meaningful fucking love affair.

His life was a badly plotted out horror movie, done by an angsty teenager with a shaky video camera.

He was Dean fucking Winchester, cursed to live eternity by himself. Where he would go through an endless cycle of death and resurrection, without ever having the one meaningful relationship that might end his personal Hell.

  
*

Dean had gotten out.

Cas reminded himself about this often, as he moved through the trees. He was torn between moving swiftly and meandering through the wooded debris.

Part of him was painfully aware of the one glaring problem.  
He was an angel in Purgatory. So there was a giant neon sign constantly above his head. No matter where he went, what he did, or how fast he ran; they would find him sooner or later. The Leviathan always knew where he was and were constantly one step behind him. 

He was never going to get away from them.

So why rush? Why run from what was going to happen anyways? 

Dean was safe and that was what was really important, wasn't it?

Only it wasn't, because Cas wanted to be there with him. He wanted to be at the mortal's side, banishing demons and hunting down things that went bump in the night. He wanted to be free to learn about the inner workings of humanity and hear pop culture phrases he still didn't completely understand.

He wanted to have a greasy cheeseburger, hot from the grill, with Dean.

He wanted to stare at the hunter's face the way they used too, the way he had always done, even here...

The desire to pay for what he had done, had blinded him to the obvious course, which had been to at least try to leave Purgatory with Dean and Benny.

Cas was stuck now, unless some miracle happened. 

And even then, what would he do? It was quite clear that Dean preferred women, he had even taken Anna in the backseat of the Impala. A fact that still cut through Cas with a strange sensation that filled him with rage and jealousy.

Stopping next to a tree, Cas took in the seemingly quiet, empty space around him.

Dean didn't look at Anna the way the hunter looked at him. He knew this, but could never make sense of it before....

Being in Purgatory had made it all crystal clear suddenly.

That the way Dean looked at him, wasn't the same way Dean looked at  _anyone_. Not Sam, Bobby, or even his beloved Impala.

And it was in these times that Cas remembered what the other part of him knew. He had to keep running, he couldn't stop fighting, because he had to get back to Dean.

Dean had gotten out, but they needed each other.


	2. "Do you regret..."

"Do you regret..."

He looked up in time to meet Dean's gaze, reading a hundred responses in those green eyes... _A specific regret? Where should I start Sammy? When we were kids, when we were growing up on the road? When killing monsters became more than just revenge for mom? When Sam? Where should I start with all the things I regret, but never talk about?_ Everything except the one problem Sam wanted to talk about.

He drew in a breath and prepared himself for the backlash. "Never telling him..."

Confusion replaced the initial agitation in his brother's features. Sam sighed and shifted, aggravated because he hated tip-toeing around problems. But he knew he had to practically spoon feed Dean when they involved his real emotions.

"Do you regret never telling him?" Sam restated in one breath, trying to express the unspoken noun with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Who?" Dean asked, and Sam could tell he wasn't just pretending to not know. "Dad, Bobby, Ash? Who are you talking about?"

"Damn it." Sam spat out with a frustrated edge to his tone. "Cas, of course!"

There was a pause from Dean and this time Sam knew his older brother _was_ pretending to not know what he wanted to talk about. He could tell in the way Dean looked away and mumbled his answer. "I said everything I had to him."

Sam nodded in an annoyed manner, "Are you sure about that?" He was forced to glare at the side of Dean's face, because his older brother refused to look at him. "So that's it? You're never going to tell him..."

"Cas is stuck in Purgatory!" Dean's voice hitched in mid sentence, causing an embarrassed flush of color to creep over his cheeks. In that silent exchange, he could see that his brother wanted to yell more, but felt choked up.

Sam felt the familiar sting of heartache when Dean turned his back to him. It was pointless because he could see Dean brushing his tears away anyways. Not that there were many, just a few actually, but enough.

"I can't say anything to him." Dean's voice had been so soft, Sam had almost missed it. He hesitated, not wanting to hurt him. But he needed Dean to talk about this, because he knew that the silence was almost as painful as admitting the problem. "But if you could." He paused because he saw the tension forming in Dean's shoulders. And deep down he still thought they would find the answer, they would get Cas back. He doubted that Dean ever let himself think about that.

"If Cas appeared right now, right here, would you tell him?"

*

The answer to Sam's question was an obvious one.

He knew it, even if he didn't want to admit it. He tried to think of anything but that one confession, as he drove to get some food.

Things had almost been unbearably tense between them, more from the unsaid things than the confessions. The buzzing of Dean's cell phone pulled him from his thoughts. He barely got a "yeah" out, before Sam's voice shot out of the receiver and pierced his skull.

His younger brother was demanding that he bring back clothes.

He would not let Dean argue or protest.

He had to get clothes. He had to do it quickly.

And he had to hurry back.

It sounded like Sam's life depended on it.

And then Sam had hung up. Pushing everything else aside, he threw the phone to the passenger side seat and slammed his foot down on the gas. His mission was accepted, no matter how crazy it felt and sounded.

***

He burst through the door of their hotel, ragged gasps burning his throat as he struggled to catch his breath. He was clutching a bag of clothes to his chest, because the flimsy plastic had ripped in half on his way from the store. Plaid of different colors hung from his arms as he frantically searched the room for...

 _What_? He asked himself suddenly.

What could Sam have wanted with new clothes? It didn't banish demons, or close the gates of Hell. What then?

And then he saw Sam Winchester, standing across from him with what could have only been the biggest smile he had seen in an untold amount of time. Years maybe. A real, honest smile, that looked like it was filled with so much happiness it pained his little brother. Like Sam would suddenly burst into tears. Actually, on a second glance Sam looked like he was crying, or had at least cried before Dean had gotten back.

Disbelief washed over Dean's face because he had no idea what was going on. Why had Sam sent him on a wild goose chase like hell hounds were chewing on his overgrown hair? And why did he look like that? His answer came from a simple gesture from his brother, that Dean had initially ignored. His features pulled in from the confusion on his face, rigid when Sam moved to the side. All he did was take one step to the right, Dean observed, and some how his moose of a brother's smile had gotten bigger.

And when he saw what was there... what had made Sammy smile like that... he wondered how he had ever missed it to begin with.

*

"Hello Dean." 


	3. Topside

Had one sentence ever sounded so good?

Or looked so good?

He wasn't sure, but he knew it felt damn good to hear it, let alone see the being he had missed so much.

Without thinking much about it, Dean dropped the bag and rushed over to the angel, so focused on those bright blue eyes he didn't take in anything else. It was only when his fingertips brushed Castiel's still hairy face that realty sunk in. His breath hitched and he realized it was different.

Not that his feelings had changed any for Castiel, but because this was the real world.

They were topside.

And it wasn't black or white, good or evil, here. The real world was shades of gray, more than the fifty implied in the title of that book everyone was going nuts over.

He hesitated, frightened suddenly about the implications of what he was about to do. The line he was about to cross could not be uncrossed. He couldn't go back once he embraced the angel the way he longed too.

The way he had so easily done before.

This was especially true when he realized Castiel was naked. Not completely naked, because he did have a towel wrapped around his slender waist. But naked enough. Wet enough from a resent shower, and smelling too damn good for Dean to want to control himself right now.

He lowered his arms, shifting uneasily in front of the angel, while he clenched and unclenched his hands.

"Hey Cas."

*

He looked between the two of them in utter disbelief of what he was seeing. Pulling at his own hair, as much as he loved it, and stared at his brother and his angel.

Would they ever just admit it? Would they ever just fucking kiss and get it over with?

Sam clenched his jaw when he saw that they were once more staring at each other. Always with the staring, not that it wasn't filled with the familiar love and adoration. But even after everything they had been through, how obvious to everyone around them that it was always meant for them to end up together, they still wouldn't progress past the staring. It was enough to drive him insane.

He had a sudden urge to shove Dean into Cas. Maybe smash their faces together, forcing them to kiss.

He had practically gift wrapped Cas to Dean.

_Here is the object of your undying affection and don't tell me otherwise. Fresh from Purgatory, where you were ripped apart. Where you believed he would be stuck forever. Oh, and by the way, I made sure he was showered, smelling good, and did I mention NAKED? Oh and in case you missed it, there is a bed like a foot away from you. Hint, hint, nudge fucking shove._

What more did he have to do, to get these two together?

He told them he was leaving, but neither one of them looked away from each other.

After repeating himself for the third time, Dean finally muttered a response that was more a gargle of sounds than an actual word or phrase. But he took it as acknowledgement of his departure.

*

"Should I finish getting dressed?"

Castiel had posed the question, tilting his head to the side as he observed the way Dean was looking at him.

Looking him over, to be exact.

The mortal looked hungry, but not for cheeseburgers or pies he noted. Dean seemed to shake that desire off and indicated to the pile of material on the floor, while his gaze lingered on Cas. "I got you some clothes."

Now it was Cas' turn to feel uncomfortable.

"I already found sometimes to wear. If you don't mind." He noticed the confusion on Dean's face, silently amused by it, causing a small smile to tug on his mouth. When he had returned from Purgatory, the how of that still a mystery, he had meant to appear right before Dean. But the trip back had taken more out of him than he expected.

Even now, he was exhausted. But the tiredness had momentarily left him when he saw the soul he had pulled out of Hell. The being he had given everything. The man he would do even more for.

Sam had greeted him and filled him in what had happened with Dean since the mortal had returned. It made Cas want to get to him faster. He had almost gone immediately, but Sam had stopped him. The younger Winchester had convinced him that he should get changed, washed up, and had gone to call Dean before Castiel could properly protest.

While Sam was telling Dean to get clothes, secretly for Castiel, the angel had done a little hunting of his own.


	4. Sam's Explanation

"Are you sure about this?"

Sam gagged as Castiel passed his clothes through the barely opened bathroom doorway.

The smell.

He couldn't identify it, there seemed to be at least several layers of different stenches. There were definitely some obvious ones: dirt, sweat, blood, monster flesh, but what else? He didn't really want to think about it.

Sam held the war-torn material in the tips of his thumb and index finger, afraid to touch it any more. "Positive."

Holding the angel's clothes at an arm's length away from his body, Sam hurried into the kitchenette and tossed them out. For a moment, he stared down at the clothes in question. There were so many memories in there.

The scrubs Castiel had worn in the mental ward. Uncontrollably, Sam remembered how he had gotten there, when he could no longer escape Lucifer's taunting voice. Castiel had saved him then and suffered a sort of death because of it. But it had been the sight of the overcoat that really bothered him.

The simple article of clothing, barely identifiable under all the grim from Purgatory. It didn't belong in the trash, anything but that. It was like seeing the Impala demolished, or when Frank had smashed his lap top. It was a part of Cas and there was nothing about the angel he would equate with garbage.

"Trust me..." Sam continued, hurrying back to the bathroom, the angel peering through the crack at him. "I know him."

Castiel stood straighter than, with a very real look of being offended. "I know Dean as well."

Sam smiled, especially when he realized how happy that statement made him. "I know you do. But you don't know everything you need to do." He waited a moment, as Cas thought about what he said, and realized how excited he was. He had waited years for these two to get their heads out of their asses.

"Are you referring to the pizza man and the babysitter?"

The laughter that came from his mouth, didn't sound like it belonged to him. It hurt Sam to laugh, and yet felt wonderful at the same time. The feeling was even better when Cas smiled at him. "Yes, that is exactly what we need to talk about."

*

As he pulled the long sleeve shirt over his head, Castiel caught Dean's reflection in the mirror. He paused, with the material of the shirt bunched around his chest. The elder Winchester brother was leaning back against the doorway, his eyes drifting easily over the angel's vessel. Over _him_ , the parts of him that were still exposed.

Dean had once told Castiel about how humans sometimes _undressed each other_ with their eyes. That they imagined pulling each other's clothes off when they couldn't do it with their hands. And that these thoughts were usually followed with, at the very least, fantasies of sexual acts.

That was how Dean was looking at him now, Castiel observed.

Like the actors on the TV show he had watched, which had brought about the question to begin with. How Dean could imagine him being undressed, as he was dressing, baffled Castiel as he slowly released the fabric and let it fall down his torso.

He had declined the clothes Dean had purchased because before the hunter had returned, Castiel had helped himself to Dean's duffel bag, and had removed several items for himself. Dark colored socks and underwear that Sam had once told him were called boxer briefs. A slate gray cotton shirt, with an opening by the throat with a set of tiny buttons, and a pair of medium blue jeans. Just a simple outfit, especially compared to what he used to wear.

All of it was just slightly too big for him, but he found comfort in them. There was also a sense of pleasure, knowing that Dean's body had been in this material at one time.

He was wearing everything except for the jeans, which were still draped over the towel rack.

Touching the counter top hesitantly, Castiel twisted just enough to stare directly at the mortal behind him. They had always shared these moments. The intimate silence of their gazes, that spoke to hidden parts of themselves. Parts that Dean had always ignored, and ones that Castiel had believed he had not been created with.

But it was different now. There was a focus to the look now. An acceptance of the emotion that had always lingered between them. It stimulated his vessel, _him_ , in a new and thrilling way at the thought of the need he could read in those familiar eyes.

*

His heart was pounding in his head, pushing hot blood through his veins. He felt excitement like the rush before a hunt, the seconds before a kill, the moment before he succeed in getting that bar room conquest in bed.

And wasn't this moment quickly rushing towards that last category?

He realized suddenly he really hoped it was. There was a sudden ache inside of him for Castiel. Seeing him again was emotionally hard enough, but the angel in his clothes was enough to make him want to act irrationally.

It took a great deal of strength before Dean could pull his eyes from the slight curve of Castiel's ass. His eyes moved from that body part in time to see the angel pick up a beard trimmer. He knew it was Sam's and that his younger brother must have shown Cas how to use it. Dean suddenly wanted to rush over and do it himself. To touch the angel tenderly and carefully remove the mangy hair from his perfect features.

For a moment, he lost control of himself. He pushed away from the doorway and was nearly on top of the angel before he could stop. Castiel had not moved, other than to look up through the tops of his eyes and at Dean.

Afraid to touch Cas and yet terrified of not doing that same action, Dean was left holding his hands awkwardly near Cas, swallowing back the lump in his throat. Silently, Castiel turned away from him.

He knew without looking that Cas had turned on the electric razor and was trimming back his beard. He could hear the loud buzzing sound that had haunted his mornings when Sam used it, but sounded beautiful now. He could feel Cas' eyes on him, through their reflections in the mirror, even as he stared at the side of Cas' neck.

The desire was building inside of him, so tangible he could practically taste it. Had he ever wanted anyone as much as he physically longed for Castiel now? Dean was so moved by the emotion that was building inside of him, he acted again without truly thinking about it. Frightened for a moment by the action because he had never really loved anyone as intimately as he wanted to love Castiel. He wanted the angel not just to have his body, or to share his bed. He wanted Castiel to have his heart, soul, and mind. He wanted to give it all, down to the smallest flake of dead skin.

Carefully, he brushed some freshly removed hair from Castiel's neck, shuttering in reaction to the sensation of Cas' skin. It was like opening a flood gate. Dean's hand slid over the side of Cas' neck, as he pressed his lips to the upper part of the angel's back, just above the edge of the shirt. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling tears welding up as he realized how real Castiel felt and how good that was.

He jerked his hands away then, shaking with the overwhelming force of his desire inside of him. But like a magnetic force, Dean found his hands shooting back to Castiel's form. First his fingertips came in contact with Castiel's sides.

But that wasn't enough.

His fingers spread across , followed by pressing his palms down. Before he even knew what he was doing, one of his arms was around the angel's waist, the other around his chest; holding him securely in his embrace. He pressed his face against the crook of the angel's neck. A gasp burst through his lips when he felt Cas' attempt to turn. He tightened his embrace without meaning too, a wave of fear at the thought of having to let Cas go, even just a little. It made his eyes watery with the beginning of tears, his throat tense.

But he allowed Cas to move all the same, soon faced with the brilliant eyes he loved so much.

He was captivated by the angels' iris', as vivid as a clear summer's sky. His breath hitched when he felt Cas's hands as he shoved them between them. Dean drew in a sharp breath through his nose from the sensation of his shirt sliding up in response to the angel's touches. But it was those eyes that really spoke to him. He trembled in the wake of the serene and yet urnest expression on the angel's face. He read the body language easily, startled by how quickly he accepted it. The way Cas' eyes lowered to his mouth. The way the angel gripped his shirt as the weight of his body moved securely against his own. It made Dean's embrace tighten so their bodies were pressed firmly together. The little hitch in Castiel's features, followed by a soft gasp nearly drove him wild.

Their gazes lingered, heated and intense, as he pulled up the back of his shirt on Castiel's body and slid his hands under it. Dean felt his jaw clench when Castiel pulled on his shirt in response to his actions.

"Why...?" Castiel's voice broke through the haze in his thoughts, low and thick with a very human expression of lust. Dean leaned in more, nearly panting with the desire that was burning inside of him. His heart was pounding hard through his whole body, aware of how Castiel was leaning in as well. "Why...?" Castiel repeated, his Adam's apple bobbing unnoticed by the hunter, as he swollowed back the tension that was forming in his throat. "Why did you let me get dressed, if you just wanted to undress me?"

"Because..." Dean whispered, their mouths already brushing together. "I thought I could control myself."

Castiel's lips were against his, almost before he had a chance to finish his sentence. This kiss, their first kiss, was broken only so Dean could yank the shirt over Castiel's head. It was like the angel just floated out of it, Dean realized, as he watched Castiel move in one smooth motion out of the stolen shirt.

Dean barely had time to toss it to the side before the angel had him pressed against the wall, their mouths locked in a heated kiss. He kicked his shoes off as they stumbled from the bathroom. Their kiss broken when he nearly fell, shaking a little when Cas caught and straightened him. For a moment, all Dean could do was stare into those eyes. Even with the pounding need of passion burning through him. He reached out and touched the angel's face gently, caressing the still rough feature before he leaned in. He brushed his lips against the angel's before kissing Cas gently.

Just then, a thought occurred to him.

For the first time real worry crept over him. Just as he began to contemplatehow he would broach the problem, Castiel answered the unspoken question.

"It's in the stand."

"What is?" Dean grunted, working at his pants as Castiel unbuttoned his shirt. He moaned, louder than he would have liked to admit and flushed when Castiel yanked the newly freed material off his shoulders.

"The lubrication." Castiel answered easily, in that straight forward manner of his. He started to go in to continue their kissing, when he noticed the way Dean was staring at him. He read the uncertainty in the hunter's expression as easily as Dean could see the answer in his own. "Sam explained it to me..." Cas continued, tilting his head to the side.

Dean quickly raised his hand, which was hard because his shirt was bunched around his elbows. "Sam... _explained_ to you....?"

"How to safely be your lover." Castiel answered the question literally instead of taking into account the way Dean was looking at him. "We do need it?"

It had been posed as more of a question that a statement, causing the corner of Dean's mouth to turn up in a grin. "Yes, we will need it."

He held his breath, as Castiel's eyes roamed over his torso. A pleased smile appeared on his angel's lips as he brought his gaze back to Dean's eyes. Silently, he finished removing Dean's shirt, with a simple tug.

"Top drawer."

Something changed then, as their naked bodies moved to the bed. Dean swore he knew what Castiel wanted even before the angel spoke, sometimes without actually hearing anything. Still, he received each request as clearly as if Cas had whispered each syllable in his ear. But he could see Castiel before him, panting softly. Each desired touch from Castiel came before Dean had even thought of the request.

Like Castiel heard his thoughts even as they formed in his own head.

They didn't need to explain anything, as they ended the painful separation they had felt for too long, joining their bodies in the most intimate manner possible. And the satisfaction of that union rang just as clearly through their thoughts. Each praise, every encouragement, right down to their prompts for more. They heard it in their inner most voices, saw it in each others eyes, and felt it in their touch.


	5. It's him.

As carefully as he could, Sam pushed the door open and peered inside.

It was dark in the hotel room.

In fact, it was hard to make out anything that didn't fall into the path of light from the street lamp behind him. It took his eyes several seconds to adjust.

Gingerly, he entered the space, pushing open the curtain next to him to cause more moonlight to fall into the room.

He could see both beds now. The one closest to him was neat, untouched, as if still waiting for his return. The second bed was in disarray. It was empty, which unnerved him, because he had at least expected them to be there. But it wasn't even just that crushed expectation that caused him alarm. Even when Dean had slept on the floor, he had done so in a very precise manner. The fitted sheet was rumpled and halfway off the matress. The sheet bunched up by the headboard. One pillow in the middle of the bed, looking like someone had jumped up and down on it.

Sam gasped softly when a figure shot up on the other side of the mattress, and at least some of his questions were answered.

In the pale natural light, he could see Castiel, who appeared to be sitting on the floor. He could see just about from the angel's chest and up. Because of that, Sam could also see that Cas was at least shirtless, although he had his suspicions that it was more.

The angel's hair was sticking up at odd angels and even in the minimal light he was working with, Sam could have sworn he saw a tell-tale hickey on Cas' neck.

"So... it worked?" Sam whispered, creeping closer to the being that had once called him an abomination.

Cas peered at him from the other side of the room and nodded in a thoughtful manner. "I didn't think it would."

Sam felt a small smile creep over his face, "I'm glad it did." His eyes moved from the angel when he finally noticed the sharp sounds of Dean snoring. "You know if you..."

"Roll him to the side he'll stop?" Cas finished for Sam. His eyes moved down and to the side, where Sam assumed Dean was lying. He nodded slowly this time, his eyelids lowering slightly. "I know."

Sam watched as Cas drew in a deep breath that caused his nostrils to flare, amazed at the love he saw in the angel's eyes. "But you like the sound of it?" Sam whispered, not sure why he thought that. He had always hated Dean's snoring, especially when he was sick. It would cut through his headphones no matter how loudly he played his music, sometimes through walls that had been put between them.

But Cas wasn't him.

There was a firmer nod of agreement as Castiel once more looked to Sam. "It's him."

And that simple answer said everything about how Castiel felt for Dean. Sam nodded in agreement, "good point."

He opened his mouth then to tell Cas he was going to the room he had scored for himself, when there was a sharp snort, following by a rustling sound of material.

Slowly, Dean appeared, blocking Sam's view of the angel since he was now sitting between the bed and Cas. His hair was almost in porcupine spikes and was at least as equally shirtless as Cas. He was sitting with his back to Sam, which he noticed had a flushed appearance...

Scratched maybe?

"Hey Sammy..." Dean's gruff, sleepy tone cut through his thoughts, causing the brothers to look at one another.

Sam watched as Dean struggled for the proper words to explain what was happening. "Screw it." Dean shrugged, "It's exactly what it looks like. You already knew anyways."

"I told him." Castiel replied, causing both of the brothers to look at him. "Dean is aware of how you helped me understand, how to make myself sexually appealing to him."

The corner of Dean's mouth turned up in a half grin, as he turned to look at Sam. Sam shrugged his brother off, sending him the silent gaze of acknowledgement that Dean deserved some happiness. And that it was obvious how much they needed each other. "You should get some sleep."

"Sam is correct." Castiel replied, drawing Dean's gaze back to him. "You should rest."

Dean's gazed lowered to Castiel's mouth and for a moment his expression said one thing: _How can you think of sleeping at a time like this?_

Sam wondered vaguely if Cas would press his fingers to Dean's forehead and force him to sleep, as he might have when they first met him. Instead, Cas leaned in and kissed Dean, their lips meeting in a brief but loving kiss.

Dean smiled, as their mouths lingered close together, before nodding, "Ok, I'm going back to sleep." He whispered the words softly, as he slid back into a lying position. He paused then, twisting enough to look at Sam. "Thank you."

Happiness burst inside of Sam then, glad that he was able to give his brother this one gift. "You're welcome."

Even as he finished lying down, Dean hooked his arm around Cas, so that it went over the angel's chest, his hand cupping the angel's far shoulder. "I have to go." Castiel replied, feeling the pull of Dean's arm on his body. "Thank you."

*

Castiel settled back onto the rug, gazing up at Dean for a fleeting second before the hunter's mouth was pressed against his own. He returned Dean's kisses, as his hand crept up the mortal's arm that was still around him. He could hear it again then, the softly whispered needs of the man he loved in his head. Pleads for love mingling with requests for physical satisfaction. Promises of their future together, that they would make no matter how impossible it seemed sometime.

*

There wasn't much Dean could guarantee about life, but he knew this one thing. Something that Cas echoed silently in his own thoughts. They would do everything they could to stay together. He would not let anything, anyone, take his angel away from him again. Not Heaven, not Hell, not any monstrosity that crossed their path. Dean laced their fingers together, as he settled in next to Cas and pulled him close. He let out a sigh and felt his body relax. Dean knew he could sleep now, knowing Cas was back, for good this time. And that his angel would be there when he woke up.


End file.
